Hanging Day
by theFanaticCat
Summary: Someone's going to be hanged whether they like or not but before they leave, there's something that must be done. R/R please


The hanging was to take place at noon and the city was teeming with excitement; the man to be hanged was an infamous thief who was said to have never been caught. Men and women lined up, gossiping, at the vendors and sellers called out their wares; happy at the chance to make some extra money. Beggars held out their bowls and the nobility, in their generosity, dropped tears of copper into them. The dangerous side of town was out and about, making their living in various ways as always. The city itself was an ordinary city; not too unique from any other as to be unusual. Streets only clean where the 'respectable' walk, dark alleys perfect for a robbing and other such crimes better done in the dark, and the typical fountain depicting either a hero of forgotten times or some myth told by the fireplace to the little ones. If it's anything else then you've obviously got an out of the ordinary city but that's a completely different subject then the one we're talking about here.

A casual observer, which we aren't, would say we're only seeing the negative and they would be right. That's life. Some people see the optimistic side of life and the rest of us do alright with them around to brighten the atmosphere but if you're stuck with just yourself, then I guess you're out of luck.

The crowds were beginning to move towards the gallows like waves to the shores of a body of water. Minnows darting in and out of the crowd, dipping their quick, clever, hands into the pockets of people with money and the city guards browsed the perimeter, eyes sharp as the edge of Lyscizk blade, keeping the gamblers in check while watching the gallows out of the corners of their eyes. But while the crowds watched the gallows only one person was looking elsewhere. A tall man wearing a cloak that shadowed the upper part of his face and fell just past his knees, revealing well used, knee high, leather boots. He stood with the ease of someone used to standing all day and looked about him with the confidence of a lord, which he most definitely wasn't.

Derani Sworsken stood with the sun beating down on his broad shoulders and frowned. _"Why couldn't they have chosen a hotter day for it? Why not just let him fry in the heat? It would certainly make __**my**__ job easier." _He thought to himself as he surveyed the situation, one more time, before moving forward into position.

"Everything is a military coup" a dead man once said but I suppose since he died in bed, my sarcasm is unfounded. I've always been a rather morbid fellow but, then, being the most hated traitor in all history does odd things to your sanity. Wait a minute, I hear you say, in all _history_? Yes, I am the oldest, and youngest looking, Sworsken to have a curse laid on them by the great and good Sorcerer Lovegode. Of course, I killed him after he did the deed so the antidote was lost and I continue to exist beyond my time.

But, enough about me, the man we are waiting for is late for his appointment with The Higher Power. My guess is someone "accidently" left the door unlocked or he bribed the guard. Or I could be wrong, there is that possibility. I hope I can pull off this job without a hitch unlike the last one I took up. The job, that I have volunteered my services for, is simple; tell the soon-to-be-dead his br-.

A man came out and brought the crowds attention to the gallows as two guards walked a man up the stairs to confront the noose. He was a nondescript sort of fellow, not too memorable a face and skinny as rail. His clothes were torn and filthy, resembling a beggar's uniform, in other words, a typical prisoner. Nothing special.

"Attention! Attention, please. I am glad you all came out to see this moment in history, today, and I would like to present his Graciousness Jesire Morgonzt who will be presiding over this momentous event. Citizens, his Grace!" said a little man with a loud voice and a large stomach, disgusting taste in clothes, who beamed at a man with militaristic bearing who was coming toward him.

The man gazed over the crowd with a steely glint in his eyes and began to speak,

"This is not a celebration but a hanging, as I am sure you are all aware. There will be a curfew as there always is, so I suggest you get your business over and done with before then. We don't want any nasty business like the last time, do we? Good day."

He bowed and nodded to the guards. They moved forward, all business, and I judged this was my moment.

There was a sudden commotion as something happened at the front of the crowd. People in the back craned their necks trying to see what was happening as those nearest screamed and scrambled out of the way. The sound of fists hitting flesh was audible even twenty feet away from the source, a man in cloak bashing his way forward.

The man with bad taste in clothes gaped as I leaped up onto the gallows and strode over to the three men near the noose. I spat out the toothpick I had been nursing all day and stopped five paces away from the nice men with the swords in their hands. I held out my hands to show that I wasn't carrying any weapons and got down to business.

"Are you Javsere Shushine? Son- of- the- number- one- bitch and brother to a real pain in the ass? Hmm?" I smiled my best don't-piss-me-off smile and held my hands out to the dead man.

They stared at me like I was a crazy beggar that had just asked them to take off their clothes and dance in the streets while the Sergin-Laknor looked on. The dead man glanced at his guards and said, hesitantly, "Yes?"

"Right. This message is free, not that it matters, so don't worry about paying me for this embarrassing display of my services. You were going to be married this spring, right?" I said, cocking my brow at the increasingly confused fellow standing before me who nodded slowly.

"Hm. Well, your bride requests that I deliver this message to you. _Sweetheart, seeing as you will be dead soon, I thought it would be best to move on with my life. I will be marrying the millers son so, while you spend your last moments breathing, think of us fucking each other. _That last part was my addition so don't be too upset. The original version was much more…heartrending. It never does to face death with too many worries, a man once said. The fact that he is dead does not give one much hope. Have a wonderful death, friend." I said cheerfully, judging by his expression, he didn't like the addition or my advice.

I looked up as a movement caught my eye and saw that the military man and some of his cohorts were tacking in my direction. I waved and jumped off the stage, trying to disappear before they caught up with me. There is nothing I hate more than a bunch of questions from the military; they always take _forever._

Derani Sworsken glanced around in search of a place to hide and spotted the wagon. It was an old style wagon with lots of fancy carving and bright paint along with a sign that proclaimed, "THE FABULOUS FOPS OF FOURTHWITH, to be showing at sundown performed by the Angrim Players" in bold lettering.

"_Angrim, huh? Well, I suppose it's better than nothing." _I thought to myself, throwing my body underneath the wagon just as boots with iron soles tapped past on the stone road. A short while later a horse head butted me as I crept out, cautiously, and noticed the crowd staring at the gallows with varying expressions of distrust.

I tugged my hood around my face, glanced at the gallows then looked back in astonishment as Javsere Whathizface shook hands with the stern faced military man whom I was to later find out was his brother. In the army, that is.

A/N:

Okay, I think I'll just leave it like that but don't worry I'm sure I'll get around to posting another short about him. Maybe.


End file.
